What You Deserve
by santiagorocksx3
Summary: After learning of Rick's true feelings, will Michonne be able to bring him back or has she lost him for good? POSSIBLE spoilers ahead.


**A/N: So, I've been catching up on the comics and I was reading a scene between Rick and Andrea and I got some inspiration to write this. I apologize if there are any errors, and I hope you guys enjoy!**

The sun was just beginning to rise in Alexandria. The small neighborhood was quiet, but ever since the death of Glenn and Abraham, that had become the norm. There wasn't much conversation, unless it was about inventory for Negan, or about work that needed to be done to further secure the community from any breaches.

Life used to seem so simple—even in the apocalypse. They were relatively safe in their community. They had big walls to hide behind, walls that typically kept them safe from all danger. They had food, a roof over their head, warm beds to sleep in and hot showers. At the end of the world, that was about as good as it could possibly get.

But most important of all… they had peace. They had the chance to settle down, to find themselves, and to figure out what they truly wanted for themselves. They didn't just want to survive—they wanted to _live._ And, live they did.

That was before Negan.

That was before Abraham and Glenn had been brutally murdered.

That was before life as they knew it had changed right before their eyes—again.

Sasha had gone AWOL. Rosita barely left the infirmary, where she had taken position as the town's doctor. Maggie had fled to Hilltop, worried for the future of her child as she had begun to suffer from severe pains. While they were on their long, spur-of-the-moment trip to Hilltop, thoughts of Lori flashed through Maggie's mind. After getting married to Glenn, she had always wanted to have a child, but the idea of having a baby in this world horrified her. When she found out that she was indeed pregnant, she felt not only an overwhelming sense of joy but an immense feeling of unease. The idea of suffering from the same tragedy as Lori made her heart feel as if it had dried up.

She was going to do everything in her power to make sure she delivered her baby safely, and to make sure that she remained alive to see him _or_ her grow into the warrior she knew they would be.

Carl had grown cold, unabashedly ignoring his broken father. He knew the man needed him, now more than ever, but if it weren't for _him,_ maybe their friends would still be alive. If it weren't for him, they wouldn't be worrying about how _they_ were going to survive because some asshole waltzed in and decided he owned half of their shit.

If it weren't for his father, maybe they would still have the prison. Maybe his mom would still be alive. Maybe Carol would be back at the ASZ. Maybe he would still have his right eye.

It was all his fault. It was _always_ his fault.

Although everyone had suffered their own losses, Rick was the most damaged out of all of them. As the leader, he carried an almost unbearable load on his shoulders. When they suffered losses, he felt it more than anyone else. When they were low on food, it was his responsibility to figure out what their next move was. When they no longer had shelter, it was his responsibility to find them a place where they could be safe, despite the world being the way it was.

Ever since the death of two people he had grown fond of, two people he had grown to love as _family_ , he had lost his way. Negan made it his business to psychologically torture Rick, whether it was to make small, snide comments that he would somehow make Michonne one of his wives, or whether it was to vividly describe how he would brutally murder everyone close to him—starting with his son. Each time Rick and the group had been kicked down, they always managed to get right back up and fight for what they loved.

It wasn't the same this time. Rick wasn't sure they could come back from this. He was _positive_ they wouldn't come back from this. He had never been one to bow down to anybody, not even _before_ the world had went to shit, but he didn't see any other viable option. If they stood down, did what Negan told them to, then they would live.

 _Maybe_ they would live.

It was always a matter of maybe.

Rick had stepped down as leader, courtesy of Michonne. Occasionally, he made a few calls, but he always looked to Michonne to determine whether he was right or wrong. To determine whether his call would benefit the people of the ASZ.

To determine whether or not his call would result in more of their own dying.

 _Michonne_.

Michonne, his beautiful, compassionate, yet remarkably tenacious lover. She was his right-hand man, his confidante, the person he ran to when the going got tough.

And he had pushed her away.

Ever since that night in the woods, where they all gathered on their knees, inevitably bowing to the psychopathic nuisance that was Negan, he had grown distant. The only time Michonne even remotely caught a glimpse of him was in the morning after he had retrieved a fussy Judith from her crib, but when he took one look at her, he would hand his daughter over and rush off to do whatever it was he did nowadays. He wouldn't even sleep in the same bed with her. She had no idea where he disappeared to at night, because when she went to search for him, he would be nowhere to be found. Wherever he went, he always felt it was dangerous enough to take his signature Python with him. He wouldn't return until the early morning hours, when he knew Michonne was just waking up—if not already awake. And then, they would repeat the same routine.

This morning as Michonne fed Judith her breakfast of oatmeal, she watched as Carl grabbed an apple and gave her a begrudged "good morning", and then fled from the home. She then heard the familiar sound of heavy boots on the stairs until the love of her life made himself known. He paused, leaning against the wall as he watched the two of them. His eyes flickered between Michonne and his daughter, who seemed to be growing at lightning fast speed.

Michonne glanced him over. His brunette curls were unruly and his salt-and-pepper scruff had grown… _scruffier._ His five o'clock shadow no longer graced his strong jaw but instead was replaced by what was turning into the full-grown beard he had when they had first stepped foot into the gates of their home.

His face, among other things, was losing the war.

He wore his usual corduroy jacket and those familiar, faded black jeans she had teased him about multiple times. His gun-belt hung on his hips, the light catching the stainless steel finish of his Python. She was sure he had a few more weapons on him, such as his red-handed axe and a knife of some sort.

He quietly assessed her, his dull, cerulean eyes boring into her soft, brown ones. She wore an expression of worry while his was impassive. He shifted on his feet, inhaling a deep breath as he did so. He nodded toward Judith.

"You got everything handled?"

"I do." Michonne answered quietly. She then turned and glanced at the pot on the stove. "Do you want some breakfast?"

"Uh, no." He said with a shake of the head. "Thank you, though."

"When's the last time you ate?" She asked, her frown deepening as she scanned his body. Over the past few weeks, he had managed to lose a good amount of weight and Michonne knew he was practically functioning on nothing.

"Doesn't matter. I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"Michonne—" Rick began, but she cut him short.

"Rick, one bite won't kill—"

"I'm _fine,_ Michonne!" He thundered and she flinched, her eyes widening with both fear and surprise. The two of them rarely fought, and when they did it could get ugly. She wasn't used to being on the receiving end of his outbursts.

Judith became to wail in Michonne's arms, jolting her out of her thoughts. Her eyes fell to the toddler in her arms. It was always said that a baby could sense one's mood, and it seemed as if it only took a matter of seconds for Michonne and Rick's mood to envelope her, wrapping around her like a cocoon.

"Shh, it's okay, Judy." Michonne whispered, bouncing the child in her arms. She turned to find Rick staring at his daughter, wide-eyed and feeling as if his heart had dried up. He had forgotten she was in the room for a second and he had lashed out. He almost forgotten the effect it had on her.

She gave him a look of incredulity, continuing to bounce the little one in her arms. "It's okay. Daddy didn't mean to yell. It's okay, Judy."

With one last glance at the scene unfolding in front of him, Rick turned and scurried toward the door before fleeing from the house a few seconds later.

Michonne scowled, shaking her head as Judith began to calm down in her arms. She grabbed the empty bowl of oatmeal and placed it in the sink. She shifted Judith onto her opposite hip before grabbing her sheath, throwing it over her shoulder and headed toward the door. She had decided that this was the _end_ of whatever the hell was going on between them. She was going to make him talk, even if it meant she had to _literally_ kick his ass.

It took a matter of minutes for her to reach the infirmary where she burst through the door, startling Rosita who seemed to be heavily engaged in a book. She immediately frowned when she saw Michonne rushing toward her and her frown only deepened when she saw Judith in her arms.

"Hi." Michonne breathed, giving Rosita a small smile. "I'm really sorry to rush in here like this, but I need a favor."

"Sure, anything." Rosita said, searching Michonne's eyes. "What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"No." Michonne answered curtly, using one arm to wrap around Judith's back and the other to support her bottom. "But it will be. In the meantime, I need you to watch her. Can you do this for me?"

"Of course." As Rosita took Judith from Michonne, cradling her in her arms, she imagined whatever Michonne was about to do had something to do with Rick. She didn't know much, but she knew that whatever was going on with him was also affecting Michonne, and it seemed as if she were finally getting to the bottom of it.

"Thank you. I'll be back as soon as I can." And with that, she turned and was out of the infirmary just as fast as she had arrived.

Rosita moved to the window, watching as Michonne jogged toward the opening of the trees, leading toward the woods.

"Good luck," She whispered.

Michonne stopped and stared down at the dirt beneath her feet. She could make out the distinct footprints, no doubt belonging to Rick's boots. She inhaled through her nose before she continued her trek, determined to find the man she loved more than life itself.

She continued to walk until she reached a clearing and her eyes widened. She had been only been out here a few times, but she was sure had seen all that these woods had to give.

She had been wrong.

She had reached a clearing in the trees, and ahead of her was what appeared to be a field. The lush, tall grass swayed in the light breeze and for the first time in forever, she heard the sound of birds chirping. The rays of the hot, afternoon sun shone down through the trees, and if she hadn't given up her faith a long time ago, she would've assumed God himself was smiling down on this very spot. To her right stood a large oak tree, one of its long, thin branches sagging down to the ground yet never taking away from its beauty. Flowers of majestic shades that Michonne had never seen before added a refreshing splash of color to the field. She found herself amazed at the fact that they were still standing even after all of this time.

She took a step forward, almost forgetting her quest for Rick as she took in the tranquil scene before her eyes.

She was jolted from her thoughts at the sound of that recognized, gruff Southern drawl that made her knees buckle each and every time.

"I see you found me."

She turned to see Rick perched on a log, his elbow resting on his knee as he peered out into the meadow. She stood still for a few moments, her hand resting on the strap of her sheath before she nodded.

"I did."

Rick nodded as well, his eyes still directed forward. Michonne shifted on her feet, frowning to herself before she closed the distance between them and took a seat next to him.

"So, this is where you've been disappearing off to, huh?"

Rick glanced down at his hands. "Yeah."

Michonne nodded. "It's beautiful. I didn't know it was out here."

"Neither did I, until a few weeks ago." Rick responded, reaching up to scratch at his beard. "I just came out here with the intention of clearing my mind. I walked, and walked, until finally… I found this place. It's peaceful." He nodded to himself, "So, I just kept coming back."

"I can see why." Michonne answered quietly. She then sighed, her eyes falling to her feet. While she was happy to have found him, she didn't come out here to talk about the scenery.

"I assume you want to talk." Rick said, practically reading her thoughts. He had the uncanny ability to do that. Sometimes it was a blessing, but other times, it proved to be a curse.

"I think we're overdue. Don't you?" She asked, turning to face him.

"I do." He answered, chewing on his lower lip. He swallowed heavily before he turned as well, coming to terms with the fact that this wasn't a conversation he was going to be able to get away from. Not that he needed to. He had been running long enough. "What is it that you want to talk about?"

"Well, we can start with the way you've been acting towards your family." Michonne said, crossing her arms over her chest. The way he acted toward her was a different story, but the way he had been treating his kids? It was unacceptable.

"Carl hates me. He won't even look at me, let alone speak to me. Judith is too young to know what's going on." Rick responded with a shrug. "What do you expect me to do, Michonne?"

"He doesn't hate you, Rick."

"Are you blind?" Rick asked, a hint of incredulity finding its way into his words. "Have you not seen the way he blatantly ignores me? The way he acts as if I don't exist? What do _you_ call that, Michonne?"

"I call that being a _teenager._ He's angsty, Rick, and he definitely has a lot to be angsty about. He doesn't hate you. He could _never_ hate you. He loves you."

When Rick scoffed, Michonne leaned forward, placing her hand on his. "He _does,_ Rick. You're his father."

"A horrible one."

"Stop it." She murmured, her brown eyes softening as she took in the broken man in front of her. "That isn't true. You know it isn't."

"What I know," Rick began, pulling his hand away from hers, "Is that _every time_ my son has ended up hurt, it's been on _my_ account. Every bad situation he's ever been put in has been my fault." When Michonne parted her lips to protest, Rick cut her off, holding up his hand. "You _know_ it's true. Everyone does. It hasn't changed. It'll never change. He'll always be in danger because he has an asshole for a father."

Michonne's heart broke for him. The fact that he had been feeling these things and not saying a word to anyone… it wasn't healthy. There was no way he could believe these things. He proved himself time and time again to be a fantastic father and no matter what he said, he wouldn't change her mind about that.

"He's been doing just fine, Michonne. He doesn't need me." Rick continued, squinting against the sun. "Maybe he never did."

"Can you stop?" Michonne asked, feeling exasperated at this conversation. "Rick…" She sighed. "He needs you now more than ever. Can't you see this? The way he's been acting out… it's a cry for _help._ "

"He has you."

"He _needs_ his father." Michonne whispered. "He's always needed his father. There's only so much I can do, Rick."

He turned to face her then. As he peered into her eyes, he saw the frustration. He saw the confusion, he saw the worry, the hurt. Of course, he knew that he was the cause of her conflicting emotions. He was the cause of _everything_. He was like BadLuck Schleprock.

"I've been doin' a lot of thinking, Michonne." Rick began softly, rubbing the pads of his fingers together.

Michonne shifted on the log, due to the fact that her behind had grown restless and his words made her grow anxious. "Okay…"

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly pressed his lips together again. What he was about to say… there was no easy way to say it, and he knew that it would cause a fight. A fight neither of them needed right now—but he was out of options.

"I've caused you a lot of pain. I've been distant, I've been cold… you don't deserve that, not after everything, Michonne." He said, shaking his head as he stared down at his boots. He then balled his hand into a fist, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against it. "I'm not the man for you."

Michonne's eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. She sat quietly for a moment, hoping that he would give her a smirk, a laugh, _something_ that would let her know he wasn't possibly being serious. When she was met with silence, she swallowed hard. "…What?"

"You heard me, Michonne."

"No." She spat. "I don't think I did."

Rick removed his hand from his face and turned to her, growing agitated. "Do you need me to spell it out for you? Huh? I ruin _everything,_ Michonne. I'm a royal fuck-up. You've been with me long enough to realize this." He paused, watching as she slowly reared back as if she were afraid of him in this moment. "Did you—did you forget about the prison? Did you forget about _Hershel?_ Did you forget about the fact that I was more than willing to send you to your death?"

"I came _back_ —"

"You could've _died,_ and I would have _never_ forgiven myself. I still haven't forgiven myself. I can't keep your safe. I can't keep _anybody_ safe! Glenn, Abraham… _Daryl._ Michonne, we're screwed. We're screwed and there isn't a damn thing I can do about it! Not this time."

Tears had begun to freely flow from Michonne's eyes. "We can come back from this. We _always_ come back, Rick. You just… _we_ just have to find our way—"

"I know _my_ way, Michonne." He replied, his voice so soft Michonne nearly didn't hear him. "I don't deserve anything good. I don't deserve happiness. But you…" He paused, shaking his head as he felt his own tears rise to the surface.

"What?" Michonne croaked, her lower lip trembling. "But I what, Rick?""

He hung his head. "You deserve happiness. You deserve something good—someone good. You deserve someone who will fight for you, someone who will protect you, someone-someone who can keep you _safe._ " He whispered. "That's not me."

Michonne buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Out of everything Rick could ever say or do to hurt her, this had to top the list. She came out here to talk, she came out here to get them back on track, to get the man she loved back on track and somehow, Rick had come to the grand conclusion that he wasn't enough for her.

"What are you trying to say, Rick?" Michonne whispered, keeping her teary eyes focused on the grass beneath her feet. Suddenly, the scene wasn't as beautiful anymore.

"This can't work, Michonne. _We_ can't work."

That was all it took.

A slap reverberated through the air. Rick's eyes widened with surprise as he reached up to touch his burning cheek. His eyes followed her as she stood, balling her fists up as she towered over him.

"Who the hell are _you_ to tell me what I deserve?!" She screamed, not bothering to acknowledge the fact that they were out in the open and still _very_ much in danger. "We _can't_ work? Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

Rick continued to stare at her in bewilderment, his chest rising and falling with the adrenaline that coursed through his veins. This conversation had taken _quite_ the turn. While he knew she would be upset with his declaration, he had never once expected her to put her hands on him.

"Out of _all_ of the damn couples still alive in this shitty world, _we_ have the highest chance of actually sticking together. The highest chance of making it _work."_ She paused to catch her breath and to wipe away a few stray tears. "The shit we've seen, Rick? The shit we've been through? We got through it _together._ You and I."

Rick dropped his hand and his gaze as he took in her words. They most definitely held truth to them, that he knew. But, he just couldn't bring himself to believe that it could work. It wasn't because they weren't compatible. If there was _anybody_ who was compatible enough for him, it was Michonne, no doubt about it. But he knew that sooner or later, they would fall, and it would have nothing to do with Michonne. He would be the cause of their downfall, just as he was the cause for everything.

Michonne inhaled shakily before she dropped to her knees in front of him. She cradled his tear-stained cheeks in her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye. She nearly broke down once more as she took in the dullness of his baby blues. She bit down on her lower lip as she used her thumb to wipe away a tear that had begun to fall. "Deanna… she asked me what I wanted. Not for this community, but for _me._ " She paused to brush away one of his stray curls, smiling to herself when it fell back into place. "I had options, Rick. There was Morgan. Daryl. Heath. Tobin. Spencer." She stopped, his gaze telling her that he got the point.

"I could've picked any of them. Chances are, they probably could've satisfied my needs. Maybe not. I don't know." Her eyes flickered up to meet Rick's. He was expressionless—as he usually was—but if she didn't have his attention before, she _definitely_ had it now. Any mention of any man pleasing her, any man but _him_ made his blood boil.

Her hand traveled down the length of his neck before it came to rest on his shoulder. "But I didn't. I didn't because what you make me feel… no other man could compare, Rick. I chose _you,_ not because you're the leader. Not because you're fearless. Not because you're brave." She gave him a small smile, squeezing his shoulder gently.

"I chose _you_ because I saw a good man. I _see_ a good man. I see a man who would stop at nothing to protect his children. I see a man whose heart is so big that it could crush this town."

Rick parted his lips to speak but Michonne put her finger up to them to stop him. "Yes, I know that's a song lyric, but let me finish."

She dropped her finger and allowed her hand to return to his shoulder. "When we met, you were so harsh. So cold and untrusting. That should've turned me off. Should've made me run in the opposite direction, but it didn't. In fact, it made me trust you _more._ You didn't know me, Rick. For all you knew, I could've been dangerous. Could've been working for the Governor. I saw that you were protecting your people. Your son. Your daughter." She trailed off, remembering the first day she had spent in the prison. She smiled at the memory. "In that moment, I was obviously calling you all kinds of curse words, but then I saw you with Carol. I saw you with Judith… and that's when I knew. I knew you had a good heart. I knew you weren't the hard-ass you were pretending to be."

When Rick's eyes searched her face, anxiously awaiting her next words, she reached up to run a hand through the curls she loved so much. "That's when I knew I could trust you."

Rick sighed, closing his eyes as he melted into her touch. He allowed her words to sink in, practically memorizing each one. He remembered that day better than anyone. When he walked across the prison yard to the fence and he saw her for the first time… it sparked something deep within him. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he knew that whatever it was, it was beyond anything he'd ever felt before. At first, he believed it could've just been physical attraction. After all, he was a man, and Michonne was a _very_ attractive woman but it took him about two seconds before he realized it was deeper than that. He immediately felt guilt because he had _just_ lost his wife and here he was, having extremely inappropriate thoughts about a complete stranger. His hostility toward her was not only him acting out of being suspicious about who she was, but it was also a way of him pushing whatever he felt toward her to the backburner.

It worked for a while.

He couldn't ignore the pang of anger and sadness he felt each time she left the prison. He couldn't ignore the immense happiness he felt every time she rode back through those gates atop Flame. He couldn't ignore the fluttery feeling he felt deep in the pit of his stomach each time she smiled. God, it felt like the heavens themselves opened every time she smiled. The two of them grew comfortable with each other, and right when he even considered making a move, the prison fell. She saved his life. He got out with Carl. He was sure he would never see her again.

And then he did. She showed up on their doorstep, her eyes full of tears, grinning as big as a Cheshire cat. She enveloped Carl in a warm hug, and he watched on with a warm heart. And then she turned to him, that smile he had grown to love still gracing her full lips.

" _You didn't think I'd forget about you, did you?"_

That was when they shared their first hug. He'll never forget the comfort that came from that _one_ gesture. The comfort he felt at the fact that she was with them. It just… it felt natural.

It felt _right_.

They grew closer, especially after the Claimers, and _definitely_ after Terminus. When he got taken from that traincar, he was determined to get back. He was determined to get back and save the group.

But most importantly, get back to Carl. To _Michonne._

She'd been the only one to call him out on his shit. When everyone else was afraid of pissing him off, or afraid of what he might do, _she_ stood up to him. _She_ put him in his place. When he lost himself, _she_ helped him find his way again. She used to always tell him that he brought her back.

Well, she brought _him_ back. And she did each and every time.

The sound of her silky sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts.

"You need me just as much as I need you, Rick." She whispered. "And I don't mean in battle. I can handle myself, just as you can handle yourself. But life… life goes beyond battle. Yeah, we have to survive. Everyone does nowadays. That's a given." She bit down on her lower lip before she smiled. "But in here, behind these walls, we get a chance to live. Despite everything, Rick, we still have to find a way to live. We _have_ to."

Rick nodded slightly, knowing that she was right. She was _always_ right.

"You can't give up. Not on the group, not on the kids, not on me. We need you _now_ more than ever." She caressed his cheek, enjoying the way the stubble felt beneath her finger. "This is a battle that we probably could've never prepared ourselves for. I get that." She nodded, her brown eyes soft and understanding. "I do. But when you said we'll win? That wasn't you just spouting a bunch of nonsense. I know you feel it deep in your heart that you can defeat this man. This crazy, psychopathic, _narcissistic_ man." She paused to take a breath, feeling herself begin to get riled up. Now wasn't the time for her anger.

"I believe in you, Rick. And I believe this is a fight we'll win. We have to. For Glenn. For Abraham. For Maggie. For Sasha." And believe in him, she did. If there was any man she'd follow into the pits of Hell, it was Rick Grimes.

"And…" She smiled. "I'll be right there by your side. Getting rid of me isn't as easy as you think it is. I'm invested, baby. And I'm not going anywhere."

Rick smiled at that. A true, genuine smile. One that Michonne hadn't seen in weeks. The very sight made her heart flutter.

"I know. I see that now." Rick removed her hands from his cheeks and held them in his own. He caressed her soft skin with the pads of his thumbs, his heart warmed. Where the hell did this woman come from? A better question was how did he get so lucky? _God_ , he loved her so much. "I'm sorry, Michonne."

"I know you are." She responded calmly. "And just in case you were confused… the _only_ person in this world who's deserving of me is you."

Rick released a breath, all of the doubt he had felt minutes later suddenly diminished. For the first time in what felt like centuries, he was hopeful again. "I love you, Michonne."

"I love you, too, Rick." And then she smiled that same, heart-breaking smile that got him every time.

They would win.


End file.
